


Down they Fall

by pondducks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Serial Killer Castiel, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pondducks/pseuds/pondducks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak grew up with a tough childhood and of course, it's all about survival. He has grown, adapted, and learnt a coping mechanism; stalking the streets as an unsuspected serial killer.<br/>Feeling the exhilaration of every kill makes him feel alive, but only for a second before the darkness seeps back in. </p><p>    In a life where no light shines he finds someone who might just save him from himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down they Fall

   The air was cold and crisp and silence rung throughout the barren forest. Only one thing echoing across the land, the rhythmic stepping of a lonesome man. The ground crunched underneath his foot steps leaving imprints in the snow, a trail for those who wish to follow. No one does, and if it were up to that man, he would not follow either.

   He must keep walking though, because choice had left him long ago. The man in search of light has traveled, has been led, too far away from what he called home to ever find his way back. The footprints he leaves are invisible to his eyes. Snow covering his sight but not the prints themselves.

   His memory is gone. All but the feeling, that aching and poisonous feeling, that he came from somewhere, where it was better to die in the cold than to live in.. constant torture? Yes, it was torture.

This man left for a reason.

   It - the land- is now all this man can call home, but it's too vast and too unyielding to shelter a stray wanderer like him. All the land knows is how to give, and sometimes what the land gives is a drought rather than a harvest. It is a game of Russian Roulette where every shot is fired. Death is inevitable. Safety is an illusion.

  The wind picks up around him, threatens his balance and carries snow that burns on contact.

   The snow falling from the sky pushes him, and burns across his exposed flesh with the wind mercilessly whipping him down until he can no longer hold himself together. 

  His emotions erupt from his seams in a blinding white state. Anger, fear, guilt, confusion, and pure pain shroud him and radiate across his body. Until... they don't. Relief?

   This man is not on fire anymore. The snow mutilating not his body, but _him_. Numbness taking pity, begins seeping through his bones and into his soul. The moment his soul froze was the moment the light that shone in him- like any other human, died. Eyes once a brilliant blue, now lifeless and as piercing as the snow felt on his skin.

   He has hardened, he has adapted, because now it is no longer about home, warmth and the wide spectrum of emotions that makes a human, well, human, it’s about survival.

**Author's Note:**

> So I started typing and this came out. It's like the water to the seedling which was the plot. This turned out to be more than anything a symbolic interpretation on his emotional and mental state. 
> 
> I hope the summary is sufficient and not overbearingly cheesy I tried *brownie points*
> 
> I will be adding more tags as I go along. Respectful and polite feedback is welcomed. So ta-da here I go publishing my first fic :3


End file.
